Airs and Graces
by J.L.Lunar
Summary: The Rum Tum Tugger has a way of distracting Mistoffelees from practicing his 'airs and graces', though the magician can't say it's a bad thing. One shot - Mistoffelees/Rum Tum Tugger


Mistoffelees curled his leg behind his body, stretching taught the muscles in a flexing wave. His hands dove past the shoulders, snagging his ankle as he steadied his supporting leg. Sighing in relief, he released the leg, and allowed it to fall horizontally behind him, tail curled tightly around it.

"Very nice," Tugger complimented from behind, causing the tux to give a slight jerk, stumbling in the slightest. Giving an irritated huff, Mistoffelees lowered the leg, settling himsef as he crossed his arms across his furry chest, glaring at the Tugger.

"Can I help you, Tugger?" Mistoffelees inquired, moving to the side as to settle himself down atop a discarded box. He primly crossed his legs, hands joining together in an array of joint fingers so as to give himself an air of poise and grace. Even in front of Tugger, his best friend, he refused to drop his guard. Mistoffelees still aspired to be as big and important as Bustopher Jones, after all. He needed to practice the air of dignity at all times.

"Just lookin' for company," the boisterous tom replied with a lucid smile, teeth vibrant behind spreading lips. "Well, company that doesn't hump my leg," he corrected, cocking his head as he slid forward, hands hooked in his belt as usual.

"How tasteful of you," Mistoffelees replied with a slight sneer, though keeping the emotioins to a minimum. The black tom, after all, had realized he had the inability to control his expressions. His face happened to show a wide array of emotions that weren't becoming of an upright cat, and it was something he needed to get rid of.

"Hm. So no laughing at my jokes then?" Tugger continued, swaggering forward as he ruffled his mane. He gave the tux a narrowed gaze, before slipping ever closer. Mistoffelees stayed distant, though he had to admit a part of him wanted to mess with Tugger. He wanted to act like a normal friend, and tease like he used to. But, after seeing Bustopher strolling about, he knew that he couldn't squander his time on petty friendship! He HAD to be a magneficent cat!

He did, however, watch Tugger quietly from the corners of his eyes, peripheral catching the small movement that the Tugger did just a bit to late. The player had slammed his gloved hand down atop the box, sending it crumpling inwards with an unfortuante Mistoffelees still residing on it.

The small tom gave an undiginified screech, and fell inside, bottom shooting clear through the middle of the broken box and bopped against the ground. Flailing slightly, Mistoffelees cursed his unfortunate size. He was so little he'd managed to lode himself in, calves bumping the edge of the box, and arms only just poking over the sides.

"Dammit Tugger!" Mistoffelees snapped, flustered as he forgot his previous wish to be like Bustopher. "You maned, pompous, giant asshole!" the tux shrieked, slapping at the inside of the box as he wiggled about, attempting to raise his hips enough to allow his legs to snag around the outside of the box, cursing all the way.

Tugger, for his part, made no move to help. He merely bent slightly at the waist, guffawing all the while, watching Mistoffelees squirm. The maned tom was clearly enjoying this, though not as much when Mistoffelees finally wiggled enough to topple the box over, allowing him to clamber out.

"You dick-sucking asshole!" Mistoffelees barked, rushing forward as he pummeled his fists into the tom's chest, slamming his hand against the open expanse of sleek black fur. Tugger let out a whoosh of air as he was delivered the punch, reaching up to grasp the flailing tom's arms. Mistoffelees struggled a bit more, before Tugger began moving, pushing the ballerino backwards, causing his legs to churn.

"Now that's not proper language," the Tugger taunted, grinning into the livid magician's face. The tux only grew more ruffled, face churning into a grimace as he calmed slightly, taking note that the Tugger was slowly turning what was once pushing away, into a slight dance.

"Shove it - it's your fault!" Mistoffelees complained, puffing his cheeks as he gave a slight pout, allowing the Tugger to pull him along. He kept their bodies separated slightly, Tugger taking the lead. Normally, Mistoffelees would've given a fight over who led the dance, but right now he found himself not caring.

"I'll shove it somewhere all right," Tugger replied with a rough thrust of his hips, bumping against Mistoffelees. The tux gave a slight noise of complaint, and quickly swiveled about, rolling outwards with one hand still linked to Tugger's. He splayed his hands out, one leg lifting upwards as Tugger kept him balanced.

With a sharp turn of his wrist, Tugger drew back in his friend, allowing Mistoffelees to do a small twirl before he was once more in the ideal dancing position. Tugger lowered his free hand to Mistoffelees' waist, taking a step forward and urging Mistoffelees to do the same.

Mistoffelees complied, swiveling a bit more. "So why did you tire of your fanclub's doting?" the tux asked conversationaly, giving a prim sniff as he stiffened his back. He attempted to collect himself - after all, who was to say that during dancing one had to be loose and fun? He could still keep his airs about him. Hadn't Bustopher done it?

"Oh, y'know, just get tired of getting touched by little kittens that are off limits," the Tugger responded, rotating and dragging the tux with him. Mistoffelees gave a slight roll of the eyes, raising up a leg slightly on the turn, keeping up his ballet like poise. He soon fell back, however, into the leisurely movements that he and Tugger had going.

"I wouldn't know that," the tux said softly, keeping his voice uppity and almost condescending. "I don't partake in such frivolties. My mind is otherwise preoccupied." Mistoffelees ended this airily, giving a slight tilt to his head as he lowered his lids halfway.

"Would you relax?" Tugger groaned, slipping his hand from the tux's hip in favor of roaming up the black furred spine. Mistoffelee gave a sharp shudder, relaxing himself momentarily, before the Tugger decided to deliver a bout of fingers to Mistoffelees' stomach. With the Tugger tickling him, Mistoffelees collapsed, falling into a fit of giggles. Tugger quickly caught the toppling tom, devilish grin spreading ever wider as he relentlessly tickled his friend.

"Stop it you prick!" Mistoffelees yelped, snagging his fingers deep in the Tugger's mane for support, back already arched as his feet struggled to stay connected to the ground. Tugger stopped his assault, but Mistoffelees wanted revenge. Lunging upwards, the tux dragged himself up Tugger's body, swiveling himself around so that he clambered up the larger tom's back.

He tightened his legs around Tugger's chest, quest of being prim and proper quickly gone from his mind as he gave into childish temptations like revenge. Snaking his arms about the Tugger's neck, he gave a minimal squeeze.

"Not very proper of you," the Tugger wheezed, raising his hands, snagging up Mistoffelees in his own. He gave them a slight pull, wrenching them apart, and rolled his hips, releasing Mistoffelees' grip. The tux went lax against the maned tom's backside, griping and complaining as Tugger swung Mistoffelees back around into their dancing stance once more.

"Why do I even bother with you?" Mistoffelees grumbled in a dejected way, giving up as Tugger drew him closer into the churning circles. They stirred dust with their moving feet, kicking up the brown specks. Mistoffelees found himself relaxing, staring up into the Tugger's looming face, noting every spot of it as they whirled.

There were soon hands on his hips once more, and Mistoffelees found himself being hoisted into the air as the Tugger's arms shook beneath his weight. The tux straightened his body, slightly startled by this movement as he clutched at the spotted forearms. He gave a slight splutter, before he was lowered back down, feet kicking slightly in an effort to reach the ground.

"Jerk," he muttered, though with no true conviction as he realized Tugger was done with their dance. The maned tom was now turning his back on the magician, and was heading towards the tire once more, settling himself down atop the rubbery surface. Mistoffelees joined him, curling his legs beneath him as he sat.

"You're not sitting prim and proper," Tugger pointed out suddenly, giving a sharp grin as he peered down at the small form beside him. Mistoffelees gave a dignified sniff, before soothing down his chest fur, ears twitching in the slightest.

"That's hard to do when a pompous moron shows up and sweeps you off your feet!" Mistoffelees argued, crossing his arms to reward Tugger with a glance. The maned coon merely stretched his grin farther, dipping in slightly to peck a small kiss on the bare white cheek.

Mistoffelees balked slightly, jaw agape as he watched the Tugger rise up, giving a twirl of his lively hips and a sharp wink. He blew a soft kiss towards Mistoffelees, who still stood still, staring, amazed, at his friend.

"Cheer up kit, you're still young," the Tugger stated, slowly offering his explanation. "You need to chill and enjoy life - you're not Bustopher." Leaning in, he waggled his tongue a bit, before snagging Mistoffelees' chin, and giving another slight kiss. "In fact you're better."

Swatting slightly at Tugger, Mistoffelees came back to himself, paw bumping at the larger tom's jaw. "Go on somewhere!" the tux commanded, sounding irritated, yet amusement shone through. The Tugger caught on, and drew back, grin still in place.

"Fine fine, be a stuck up little prick," the maned tom teased, swaying his hips as he strolled away, tail streaming behind him. "But find me if you wanna have a break from all your hoity toityness." Giving a slight snap of his fingers, Tugger disappeared from sight, rounding the bend of junk, humming all the while.

Mistoffelees lifted a hand, trailing his fingers around the smooched part of his face, giving a slight smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling in the slightest. "Not even a chance in hell," he purred, undercurrent of his words carrying the true meaning.

Stupid Tugger.

Stupid _boring _Tugger.

He always managed to make Mistoffelees forget his goal! Though, the tux certainly couldn't say he was complaining.

-(-o-)-

**e_e**

**I'm not good with charecterizations for these two.**


End file.
